Sixteen days ago, I had an oophorectomy (the surgical removal of my ovaries and fallopian tubes) to reduce my ridiculously high risk of ovarian cancer. Six days ago, I developed a terrible allergic reaction and broke out –head to toe — in angry, pissed off hives. I haven’t left the house in sixteen days, which also means I haven’t eaten anything new or used any new detergent or met any new people or pet any new cats or ….. well, you get my anger drift.

Yet, my skin hates me.

My husband, who bless his heart has loved me through thick and thin, walked into the room one morning, looked at my face, and said, “Woah. Liza. Woah.” He was referring to the fact that my face was patchy and red, and it looked like I had been (lost) in a bar fight. And, as he describes, my lip was so swollen that it looked like it was attached to my nose.

Are you getting how pretty I am looking these days?

After visiting the doctor, I received my favorite response of “Well, we just aren’t sure what this is.” Course of action? Remove everything I have introduced that is new. Including my hormone replacement.

In the beginning, I was reluctant to start the hormone replacement. But, after a few nights of hot flashes and insomnia (I’m talking 2 hours of sleep), Jorge thankfully convinced me to take the pills. And, that night, I slept like a baby and we could stop opening the doors and windows in my house.

Now, I’m off of the hormones to see if these allergies clear up. And, now the hot flashes, insomnia, and total irritability, are back.

So, yes. I’m angry. I’m angry at my skin. I’m angry at the slow pace of recovery. I’m angry at the itching. I’m angry at my dog who keeps snuggling up to me.

I’m angry that I’m angry.

So, bear with me, friends and readers. It’s going to be a rough few days on top of an already rough 2 weeks.